


Star

by Glittermonkey (Schizanthus)



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schizanthus/pseuds/Glittermonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody loves Trevor! Well, they *should*.... A silly musing on kinds of attention, lack of it, and the dynamics in between. A quick peek at our favorite sarcastically bitter lead guitarist and why he wears sequins so often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to ff.net back in 1/29/2003.

LONDON -- BIJOU OFFICES -- 1972

Trevor played guitar.

Oh, sure, it was always Brian friggin' don't-hate-me-because-I'm-beautiful Slade who got the attention, who always got interviewed as the serious musician of the group. With all his bullshit spouting about an agenda for revolutionary change, all the swishing and posing and on-stage antics, it was easy to forget that the man hardly ever played more than three notes in a row. And who kept the set going, dependable yet overlooked as always? The only serious instrumentalist of the bunch, him, Trevor R. Finn, that's who. Damn them all.

Starting from today, Trevor decided, it was all going to change. Yes, he was going to put his foot down. Be heard. Be seen. Claim his right to the glory and limelights. and Lord have mercy on anyone who stood in his way.

Now, if only he could figure out a way to keep these godforsaken feathers from chafing so much against the back of his neck. He turned his back to the mirror and glanced over his shoulder to see if metallic gray glitter made his ass look fat. He was pleased to discover that not only did it not, but it rather accentuated his figure nicely.

"I am," he declared, "fuckin' hot shit."

Reg glanced over to him from where he was trying on shoes, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Eh, sorry, mate. That wasn't meant to be said outloud." Trevor mentally berated himself for the slip and decided he would have to practice speaking to himself more quietly in the future.

Satisfied with his reflection, Trevor wandered back to the costume chest and began rummaging around for a suitable top to go with his ace new trousers. Something that would really make him stand out. Something that would make them stop and do a double take at his stunning visage. Tossing aside a rainbow sweater, a pink wig, and a hideous neon green animal print blazer with total noninterest, Trevor stopped briefly to hold a pretty purple frock up to his chest. After a bit of consideration, he threw it aside. He was too butch for that, he supposed. Though it probably would have shown off his legs   
quite nicely.

He shuffled through a pile more shirts, occasionally trying on an interesting paisley print or two. *Nope, nah, never in a million years...* Some of the spandex outfits he found were so garish that they'd make Superman blush. He dug deeper, now fully up to his waist in discarded clothing choices. Then, very briefly, he caught a glint near the bottom of the chest.

*Oooh, prettybrightshiny!* Trevor thought. He pulled the garment out with a bit of difficulty, sitting back to examine his prize. It was a sequined dress -- silvery, shimmery and crying out to be worn. He grinned at the hundreds of little Trevors that reflected back at him from every iridescent facet. Yes, perfect. He was in love.

Glancing around to make sure that Reg and Harley weren't looking, Trevor wadded the dress up, stuffed it down his shirt, then grabbed a random pair of manly-looking black leather pants as subterfuge. He mumbled something about needing privacy on his way out. The rest of the band, oblivious as ever, didn't even register his absence.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mandy was pissed off. Which wasn't anything new, really. By now, most of Brian's entourage could sense one of her fits coming from a mile away and knew to steer clear before she even touched down in their vicinity. However, Reg and Harley were feeling courageous today. Mostly because she was screaming at Trevor and not at them. And they just found that to be endlessly amusing. Especially since Trevor wasn't really in a situation to fight back, tangled as he was in a rather tight sequined sheath dress.

"Hold still, you moron!" Mandy snapped. "How the hell you managed to fit into that thing to begin with is beyond me. I couldn't have lost that much weight in a couple of years. And stop wiggling, dammit! It's only causing the zipper to jam..."

They'd found him in the back room like this about a half hour ago. Nobody was sure how long he'd been missing, but the bluish tinge to his extremities seemed to signify that he'd been stuck for a fairly extended amount of time. Stuck as a seagull in a six-pack ring. Positively hog-tied. And acting like there wasn't a single thing amiss. He'd tried telling them to go away, that he'd join them in a bit, but after the first few seconds of listening to him flailing and crashing into breakable items, they decided it might be time for emergency assistance.

"Imbecile! I swear, if you don't stop squirming right this second, I'm going to make sure this zipper jams at a particularly unpleasant part of your anatomy. Then they'll have to amputate and we'll see how much you like that..."

So they'd called Mandy, figuring she would have more experience with tight dresses and things of that nature. Harley had suggested that Brian would probably know just as well, but they didn't feel like being that cruel to their buddy. Trevor had enough issues to handle without having this being held over his head. So Mandy it was.

They hadn't counted on her lunging at Trevor and strangling him like a crazed maniac, though. After all, the dress was doing a fine job of slowly asphyxiating him without her help. Approaching with the wariness of veteran lion tamers, they pried Mandy off of the now whimpering Trevor and held her back until she'd calmed down sufficiently. That was when they'd discovered who's dress it had been before it had found its way onto their lead guitarist.

Apparently, Mandy had misplaced her bedazzling garment years ago, and had been looking for it ever since, never realizing that it had been commandeered by her husband for a late night drag revue the week after she'd sent it in for dry cleaning. Being the negligent sort he was, it was never returned to its original  owner, but got tossed around in various trunks and closets until it found its way to the offices of Bijou Music. And onto the beleaguered looking Trevor.

"Oh, screw it! Someone get me some scissors. Or a broken bottle. Or a medium sized hatchet. Hell, anything with a sharp edge."

Trevor stiffened, went stock still. He mumbled something about being too young to die, and for Mandy to please have mercy. He'd try harder not to move, honest.

"Shut up," she growled, smiling at her reflection in the wickedly sharp blades. "I need to... concentrate."

With no warning, Mandy once again tackled Trevor, jammed her weapon down a particularly stubborn seam, and gutted the garment like a freshwater trout.

Trevor screamed like a little girl, covered his eyes and trembled. It took him another five seconds to realize that he was now regaining circulation in his lower extremities. Clearing his throat and straightening his back, he gave his fellow band members a stiff nod and walked unsteadily out the door.

Mandy stared down at the sadly scrapped remains of her favorite dress. She was sure it had held some sort of meaning at one time. Damn. She lost more clothing than she cared to admit that way. What a waste. Then, inspiration struck. Smiling to herself, she started cutting away at the rest of the garment, fashioning a different neckline, pinning on some sleeves, cutting off pieces here and there. Finally satisfied with her creation, she handed it to Freddi on her way out, with instructions to finish the seams and gift wrap it for tomorrow.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the gang arrived for work the next morning, there was a special box with Trevor's name on it sitting at the front desk. Trevor opened it with an odd sense of trepidation, just knowing something horrible was waiting within. He was obviously going to be the butt of people's jokes for a long time to come.

Pulling aside the tissue paper, he was surprised to find... sequins. It was the dress. Very funny. But no, it wasn't. It was a shirt made from the same material as the dress. A hundred confused looking little Trevors stared back at him. He pulled it out and tentatively put it up to his chest. Perfect. He tried it on. And much more comfortable. He grinned at himself in the mirror again, all worries forgotten. For all her scariness, maybe Mandy wasn't that bad.

Wrapping a hot pink feather boa around his neck, Trevor struck a pose. He stared at himself hard, puzzled by the stranger in the mirror. Costumes. They were just costumes. Nothing more.

And next time, he thought, scratching at a stray feather, he'd find a much less painful way to draw a crowd.

-finis-

**Author's Note:**

> I like Trevor. I have no idea why. He just kind of moved into my mind around the time of _Importance of Nomenclature_ and has made himself at home ever since. He lives in a small economy flat next door to Jerry and Shannon on the bottom floor of my imaginary mental condominium complex. Malcom and the Creatures have a floor to themselves somewhere in the middle, while Curt and Brian have commandeered the top four floors and the penthouse. Obi-Wan and Xanatos sometimes pop in to say hello and play drop-Qui-Gon-from-the-balcony, which is great fun for all ages. The larger the Jedi Master, the bigger the splat, they always say. I believe Arthur is currently living in the janitor's closet, though I liked Alex's Nasty!Arthur so much that I gave that particular subspecies his very own suite somewhere below the Creatures but above Mandy. So in conclusion, I like Trevor. 
> 
> And for all of you that stopped and wondered, yes, Trevor's middle name is Riley. He told me so. Anyone who has a problem with that will have to take it up with the Initiative. Vapid blonds stick together. 
> 
> Ha-HA! I declare this as a legitimate answer to the "Everybody Loves Trevor" challenge on PBU. OK, so that wasn't what it was written in mind for, but it could work. The established pairing being Mandy and her clothes, a long and sordid love affair indeed. And Trevor is the third party. Works for me! *g*


End file.
